Dennis Cardiff's Blog: Poetry and Prose by Dennis Cardiff, page 15
July 25, 2020
Do you know why I have this shovel?
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RRBC Interview, Eyes on the Book hosted by Rox Burkey https://buff.ly/2OJjaKx
8 March 2012
A woman came by and put two pennies in Joy’s cap. She took them out and placed them behind her on the sidewalk. “I’ll leave them for Chester, he’ll take them. The pennies I left yesterday are still here.
“Do you see that fat guy, across the street, talking to the security guard? He tried to take my spot yesterday. He said, ‘You’re only here a few days a week and I’m sleeping on the sidewalk with my dog.’ I said, ‘That’s not my problem. You made your own choices.’ Then he punched me in the head. The security guard saw it and raced across the street. He had the guy down on the sidewalk in seconds. I have a lot of friends around here.
“I have to find a new place to live. Roy says he’s going to raise my rent. It’s just because he owes a lot of money. The electricity hasn’t been paid, the heat hasn’t been paid and he’s probably behind on the rent. He asked me to have cable hooked up for the TV, but I can’t. When I was staying with Fat Richard, he ran up a bill of $270.00, just on porn. What a sicko! He left and I was stuck with the bill. I couldn’t pay it, so I can’t go back there.
“When I see those young girls at the Mission, it makes me so mad. We call them ‘twinkies’ or ‘candy kids’. I’d just like to slap them and tell them to go home while they still have the chance.”
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When I arrived at ‘the benches’, Shakes was sitting alone, with a snow shovel.
“Do you know why I have this shovel? I went to The Mission and they wouldn’t feed me, so I took their shovel. I wasn’t sneaky about it. I took it right in front of their faces.
“I’m barred there for life. I was sleeping there one time and the staff kicked me. I call them ‘the steroid monkeys’. How would you like to be kicked at six o’clock in the morning? They could have said, ‘Hey Shakes, it’s time to get up,’ but they didn’t, they kicked me. I said, ‘Okay, just wait until I get out of bed. I used to be a boxer. I’ve sparred with Shawn O’Sullivan and George Chuvallo. It wasn’t long before ‘the steroid monkeys’ were lying, out cold, on the floor.
“I lost one of my mitts. I have a right, but no left.”
“Where were you born, Shakes?”
“On the Curve Lake reservation, that’s my ‘rez’, but mostly I grew up on the streets of Parkdale in Toronto.
Since time immemorial the Anishnaabeg ancestors of the Mississauga’s of Curve Lake First Nation have inhabited North America. Written history, spelling, and grammar misinterpretations have led to confusion of what we have been called over the years. To avoid argument we will go with the fact that we speak the Anishnaabeg language we are Ojibway by description and of the Mississauga Nation because we resided in the general area of the Mississauga River.
“I’m just waiting for Rhino to come back with my run. He’s getting a bottle of wine for me. I hope he doesn’t try to boost it. If he does, he’ll go back to jail and I won’t get my wine. I haven’t had a drink for two hours now.
“One time a guy took a photograph of me. He said he’d bring me back a print. What he brought back was a poster. Can you imagine me on a poster? Ha, ha, ha. I gave it to my mom. She loved it.
“My mom still owns a restaurant. I go there for lunch every day. If she doesn’t see me she worries.”
~~~
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July 24, 2020
You can’t break the circle
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RRBC Interview, Eyes on the Book hosted by Rox Burkey https://buff.ly/2OJjaKx
7 March 2012
The sun was shining, the weather was warm and most of the snow had melted from the sidewalk. There was a large group near ‘the benches’. Someone was waving at Toothless Chuck across the street, but he didn’t come over.
Ryan came over to me and thanked me for the Subway card I had given to him and Ian the previous day. He wanted to reimburse me for the five dollar value of the card.
I said, “Lots of people have helped me in the past. You can do the same for another person some time in the future.”
Ryan said, “I was walking along the street this morning and I met an elder. We talked for a while. He reached into his pocket and handed me a hundred dollar bill, so I bought beer and cigarettes for the guys. I can give you five dollars for yesterday.”
I assured him that it wasn’t necessary.
“Have a beer then.”
“If I came back to work smelling of beer, I’d lose my job, but we’ll go for a beer sometime when I don’t have to go to work.”
Shakes said, “I saw my daughter and my grandson this morning! I have two daughters and seven grandchildren. They’ve been busy.”
Someone said to me, “With your white hair slicked back you look like either a politician or a mafioso. Which is it?”
“What’s the difference?” I asked.
Jacques was lighting his carved stone pipe. He passed it to Shakes who took a hit then passed it to me. I thought of a dozen reasons why I shouldn’t take it. I could be arrested for possession of marijuana. I could lose my job, if anyone smelled it on me, or if I acted stoned. If things got out of hand I might not have a place to sleep, like most of the people here.
“Come on, Dennis, you can’t break the circle.” All eyes were on me. I’d already turned down a beer. Generally, people who don’t drink aren’t trusted. I thought I’d lose all credibility if I was afraid to do what all of these people do on a daily basis, and are doing right now. I took the pipe, inhaled, and passed it back to Jacques.
I was noticing Weasel’s hair. It was freshly washed, cascading over his shoulders like a L’Oreal commercial. I could just imagine him shaking his head, his hair flowing in slow motion, because you’re worth it.
Shark was telling me about the problems he was having with HIV. One benefit is that he gets free marijuana.
Shaggy was walking around the circle of people. Wolf said, “Shaggy, make your mind up. Decide who you’re going to bite, and get it over with.”
~~~
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July 23, 2020
What name was I going by last time?
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RRBC Interview, Eyes on the Book hosted by Rox Burkey https://buff.ly/2OJjaKx
7 March 2012
I handed Joy a sheet of bus tickets. She, said, “Thank you so much. You’ve saved my life. I got another $150.00 fine for sneaking on the bus, at the back door, without paying. The guy said, ‘So, what name are you going by today?’
“I asked, ‘What name was I going by last time? Just give me the paper!’ I can’t remember what name I gave him.
“I haven’t been out much. The weather has been too cold. I was out for a while yesterday, but I had to come into the restaurant to get warm.”
“All these guys keep hitting on me! I’m lonely. I miss Jake! I was a hooker and bought my mother the house that she died in. If I’m with some guy, I want a long-term relationship. I don’t want some fly-by-night stuff. I’d rather shoot myself in the face.
“I haven’t had a drink in nearly two weeks, until yesterday. I was over at Jacques’, playing dice when he starts rubbing my back, then my thigh. I said, ‘Jacques, are you trying to get it on with me? It’s not going to happen!’ He said, ‘Well, you’re in my house, you’re drinking my vodka, eating my egg rolls!’
“You’re not getting my bod for that! Think again!
“I could tell you some stories that would make your hair curl. When I was about four, my dad, and Uncle Doug, took me and my sister to Lake Miskwabi, near Haliburton. My grandfather had a place on an island. My dad and Uncle Doug decided to take my sister into town. My grandmother made me a sandwich and told me to run as far and as fast as I could. She knew what my grandfather was like.
“One time he caught her sending me off and he started beating her. I jumped on his back, but he just threw me against a wall.
“I ran to one of our tree forts, our most recent one. It wasn’t even on my grandfather’s property. When Mr. Jones saw him he said, ‘Bruce, you’re not coming on my land with a shotgun!’
“Why would a grown man be chasing a four-year-old with a shotgun?”
An attractive couple approached us. The woman, with long black hair, an expensive coat and long black leather boots looked like a movie star. She bent gracefully from her knees and put change in Joy’s cap, then kissed her on the cheek.
“So this is your new husband?” inquired Joy.
“Yes Joy, this is Dave. Dave this is Joy.”
“This is my friend Dennis. Dennis this is Katrina and Dave.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you,” I said and shook hands with both of them.
Joy asked, “So, how long have you two been married now?”
“It’s been two months.”
“So, I guess you’re still on your wedding thingamajig?”
“We’ll always be on our honeymoon.
“So, how have you been doing, Joy?”
“I still have problems with my fibromyalgia. I’m sore all over. I was in the hospital a couple of times. My kidneys shut down, It could have had something to do with my epileptic seizures. It could have been because I wasn’t eating properly.
“You’ll have to come over to visit me in my new place.”
“We’d love to Joy.” Then they left.
“She’s gorgeous,” I said.
“Yeah, isn’t she. That’s the religious lady I told you about. The first time I met her I was standing up. She gave me a big hug and kissed me on the cheek. I wasn’t sure if she was just being kind or if she really liked me.”
“What religion is she?”
“Christian.”
“Do you know what church she goes to?”
“I don’t know. Are there a lot of Christian religions? I was brought up Protestant. I’ve been to a lot of different churches. I like the ones where they do lots of lively singing, like spirituals. That’s my fave.
“I have an appointment with Andrea, my probation officer. I hate her. I thought I had an appointment with her March first. I went to her office and she wasn’t there. The receptionist checked her book and said that I was supposed to have been there the day before. I said, ‘I had an appointment for March first,’ She said, ‘This is March second!’ I had the dates mixed up. I asked, ‘So, are you going to breach me because I missed an appointment?’
“A breach would mean thirty days in jail wouldn’t it?”
“If the judge is an asshole, he could make it sixty, but I’m not going to jail. I still have until November until my probation is finished. Andrea wants me to go for anger management counseling. I don’t think I need anger management counseling.
~~~
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July 21, 2020
Sleeping in the Bank
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RRBC Interview, Eyes on the Book hosted by Rox Burkey https://buff.ly/2OJjaKx
6 March 2012
Spring is gradually approaching, but after standing outside for an hour at ‘the benches’, my cheeks are so stiff I can barely talk. Ian and Ryan were there.I asked Ian, “How have things been going since I saw you yesterday?”
“Marlena and I had a rough night. We started off sleeping at the Royal Bank. We were rousted by the police. We moved on to the Canadian Imperial Bank. After a few hours, we were rousted again. I said, ‘I know where we can go; to the Toronto Dominion Bank.’ We spent the rest of the night there. The manager woke us up when she came in. ‘Okay Ian, time to move on,’ she said. ‘Okay, just give me a few minutes to wake up and clear my head. I’ll clean up my cigarette butts.”
“How does Marlena like sleeping in the bank?”
“She was a bit scared, but I told her, “You’ll be safe. I’ll get some shut-eye, but my ears will be open. If anybody tries anything, I’ll give it to them, believe me.’ She also found it too hot. I’ll have to get my tweezers and turn down the thermostat again.”
Ian introduced me to Ryan.“I’m just out of jail. I was coming across the bridge and I said, ‘Hey, I know that guy, it’s Ian. So we’ve been sharing a beer. I grew this beard in prison, but I’m going to shave it off. Ian looks fine with a beard, but I look ugly. I look like a hobo.
“I was talking to my old boss. I can go back to work once I clean myself up. I do events. I installed the Christmas lights at The Eaton Center. I’m also a painter and a carpenter — that’s my trade.”
“When do you think you’ll be going back to work?”
“Maybe next week. I’ll have to ease off the booze. I got a friend who will help me out with a place to stay for a hundred dollars a week. He’s got a few places, but the crack heads he puts in his place on Queen. I’ll be staying near Bloor on Parliament.” I’m originally from Belfast, Ireland. My parents brought me over when I was nine months old. We lived near the old Maple Leaf Gardens. My dad coached hockey, all the teams I played on when I was a kid. He’d see some guy rough me up and he’d say, ‘Get back in there and fight him!’ That was before they curbed the violence in minor hockey. He was a good coach, but he never learned to skate. Whenever there would be a father and son skate I’d have to hold him up so he wouldn’t fall. He would be all wobbly. I sure miss him. Bless his soul.
“When I was a lad. I was born in 1956, you know. We had a 1969 Volkswagen, a bug, just like in the Herbie movies. My mom and dad went out to the neighbors, one time, and I found the car keys. A friend and I decided we’d go for a ride. I was grinding gears. I didn’t know what I was doing. We went up a steep hill and the car stalled. My friend was pulling back on the emergency brake. I started the car revved the engine, but the car was in second gear. We rolled back down the hill into a bus, smashed the back bumper of the car. I drove it back to our driveway and didn’t say a thing. My parents didn’t notice the damage for a month or so. They blamed my brother Adam. He got a beating for it.
“I have a twin, you know. My sister, Jessica has breast cancer. She was even written up in the Globe and Mail newspaper. When she was first diagnosed they removed her breast. She was cancer-free for seventeen years, then it came back. She doesn’t talk to me, but I still love her.
“My brother, Adam had breast cancer when he was young. He had surgery and he’s been fine ever since. They cut out his left chest muscle and even the muscles at the bottom of the arm (the triceps).
“My mom wants me to come back home. I’ve always sent her money when I had it, and she’s helped me out when she could.”
~~~
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July 17, 2020
Biff Bam Pow!
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RRBC Interview, Eyes on the Book hosted by Rox Burkey https://buff.ly/2OJjaKx
5 March 2012
The sun is shining, the temperature is minus fourteen degrees Celsius (seven degrees Fahrenheit), with a wind of twenty-four kilometers per hour (fifteen miles per hour). It feels cold. I have a scarf over my face to protect from the cold breeze. I see Ian and Hippo standing near the benches at Orphan’s Green. Ian looks at his watch, joking that I always arrive at the same time, 12:10 pm and leave at the same time, 12:50. He could set his watch by me.
I said, “It’s okay, I have an appointment. Am I late?” Ian and Hippo laughed.
Two men Spike and Brent came and shook hands with everyone. “Spike, you’re looking great!” said Ian. He was freshly shaved, He took off his cap to show his fresh haircut. He was wearing a red jacket.
“I’ve got a meeting to go to. When it comes time for ‘panning’ I’ll put my panhandling clothes on.” They left.
“I gave Spike that jacket,” said Hippo, “I wish I had it now.”
I asked if they had seen anybody else today.
“I saw Chester at the Salvation Army for breakfast this morning. We had bacon, eggs, and home fries. I’ve been staying there for the past week, but I hate it. I’m staying tonight because I get my P.N.A. (Personal Needs Allowance) check tomorrow. If I stay there for a full week they give me a check for twenty-eight dollars. I hate it there. Everyone is all cracked out. Things get stolen. Last night I just stepped out back to have a drink and a guy tried to stab me with a knife. It sliced the whole sleeve of my outside jacket and a three-inch cut on my inside jacket (he showed me the cut on the outside of his sleeve). Luckily, it didn’t reach my skin.”
“How did the fight start?”
“I don’t know. The guy was crazy in the head, but I took care of him, biff! bam! pow!. That was the end of it.
“What place do you prefer, The Salvation Army, The Good Shepherd, or The Mission?”
“I don’t know about The Mission since I’ve been barred. The Shepherd has the best food.”
Ian said, “I don’t eat the food at The Shepherd, they serve too many carrots. Sometimes I’ll get a plate for Marlena and take it outside since they only allow women at certain times. It is a men’s shelter. I’d prefer to panhandle and buy my own food.”
“When did they start calling you Hippo?”
“I think It was Joy who first started calling me Hippo. Before that, they used to call me Farm Boy. My name is actually Nathan. I’m from Oshawa. Those were the days when Rip, Tim and Hobo were still around. They were old guys. They’re dead now.
“I’m waiting on an inheritance from my grandma. She passed away. When I get the money, I’m heading to British Columbia — Vernon, Salmon Arm area. I got a call from my old boss. He said my old job is waiting for me, driving a big grapple skidder for hauling logs out of the bush. The tires are this high (he reached above his head). If you look in Facebook I have some pictures posted of the equipment I’ve run. It’s great to be out in the bush. I’m by myself, the cab is heated and air-conditioned, with a CD system. I get twenty-nine dollars an hour.”
~~~
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July 16, 2020
Rooting through a trash basket
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RRBC Interview, Eyes on the Book hosted by Rox Burkey https://buff.ly/2OJjaKx
2 March 2012
Beside the sidewalk near the ‘benches’ at Moss Park, I met Ellen, sitting cross-legged in the snow, her cap in front of her. She was wearing jeans and a brown coat. Her brown hair was relatively short. Her features were pleasant, like someone I may have passed in a grocery or department store. She didn’t look like the stereotypical panhandler.
“Have you seen Shakes or the others?” I asked.
“They are usually around here, or across the street at ‘the heater’, but I haven’t seen them today. Maybe they’re under the Queen Street Bridge. That’s a place they sometimes meet.”
“I’ll try there. Yesterday, Ian and I were rousted from ‘the heater’. Perhaps Shakes is at ‘his office’ (panhandling at the corner of Queen and Parliament).
Before I left I gave Helen a Subway card, “This will buy you a sandwich. Do you smoke?”
“Yes.” I offered her a cigarette.
“Thanks,” she said. We both said goodbye and I walked toward the bridge. No luck there, so I headed toward Queen Street to find Shakes. He wasn’t there, so I headed to ‘The Magic Oven’ restaurant, well known for their chili.
Rooting through a trash basket, across from ‘The Oven’ I met Curtis. In contrast to Ellen, if one were to stereotype a homeless person, Curtis would fit the description. He wore a red and black, checked lumberman’s jacket, khaki work pants, a black toque, a week’s growth of beard, and looked generally dirty.
“Have you seen Shakes, or any of the others?” I asked.
“No,” he said with some apprehension.
I gave him a Subway card. “This will buy you a sandwich, I said.
“Thanks.”
“Would you like a cigarette?”
“No, I’m good.”
We were about to shake hands, but he pulled his back. Perhaps, he remembered that it had just recently been in the trash barrel.
We said goodbye. I checked ‘The Oven’, but didn’t see any familiar faces.
~~~
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July 15, 2020
Algonquin Land
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1 March 2012
Lost Brave
a lost brave
leans against a building
(tho he is unwelcome)
beside a busy walk.
everything he owns
fills a pack
upon his back
he is far
from his fishing boat,
an ocean teeming with fish,
from the majestic forest,
from his children,
his clan
his eyes reveal
a story of hurt and pain –
the uncertainty of the city.
a sidewalk for a bed,
charity of strangers
his only grace
a challenge
every day –
a new beginning.
beyond the fire
that tames his demons
the only plan that matters
is to survive
far from home
he can scarce remember.
a lost brave, fighting back tears,
pride in the knowledge
of his ancestry,
his place –
his blood
.
The wind was whipping the freezing ice crystals, like coarse sand, against my face as I walked to ‘the heater’, a warm air exhaust vent on a public building. Ian was standing alone. “I’ve made my price already; the price I need to buy a bottle. I’ve got another in my backpack that Marlena gave me. I haven’t even started that one. She said, ‘Since you’re giving me money, I’ll buy you a bottle.’ She even offered to carry my backpack, since my back is still sore from being thrown down the stairs. I said, ‘Sure, you can carry my backpack, I’ll carry your purse.’ ‘You can’t carry my purse!’ she said. ‘Sure I can! It takes a real man to carry a purse.’
“It was the same when I was in the hospital for detox. A nurse told me that if I’d wear a pink hat, she’d bring me a bottle. ‘Sure,’ I said, ‘bring it on! It takes a real man to wear a pink hat.’ I wore the hat and she brought me a bottle.
“Before that, I was hallucinating. It seemed that the ground ahead of me was crawling with things. I felt really dizzy. I phoned the pharmacy and told them how I was feeling. They asked if I was taking any drugs. I said, ‘Not bad drugs, a little weed now and then.’ ‘Do you drink?’ they asked. ‘Yes, I drink.’ ‘What you’ve got then is delerium tremens, the DTs.’ They said I should get to a hospital right away because it could be fatal.
“I didn’t know what to do. I was homeless and didn’t have any way to get to the hospital, so I phoned Alcoholics Anonymous. They said they would send someone to pick me up and stay with me in the hospital. I was unconscious for three days.
“The doctor said that my heart rate was one hundred and eighty. He asked if I was an athlete. I said I was. He told me that having a strong heart probably saved my life because that number was in the heart attack range.
“Marlena and I are still seeing each other, but I don’t go to her house. I don’t want to cause any trouble between her and her family. When I was there I’d do lots of things to help out. I’d sweep and mop the floor, carry out the garbage — anything. I was feeling edgy, so I wanted things to do to keep me occupied. Before I have my first drink of the day, I’m hard to get along with. Once I’m fixed, I’m okay.
“Marlena wants to have a baby, but I’m not ready for that yet. I still have to get my life in order. I could get a job. My former boss keeps leaving messages at The Shepherd for me saying, ‘Ian, get your shit together and come back to work.’ I was a ‘swamper’, or what he called ‘a professional furniture handler’. He would go in and do all the paperwork and I would be in the truck stacking furniture. I was good at that, that’s why he wants me back. I was paid eight hundred a week.
“We did some local moves, some to Ottawa and the smaller cities in between. We’d go to Montreal. The farthest we went to was a move to Sudbury.
“We’d have a lot of laughs kidding each other. He’d ask me, ‘Ian, do you want a beer.’ I’d say, ‘Of course!’ I didn’t do any of the driving. I don’t have my license. When I drink, sometimes I get crazy. I might get behind the wheel of a car and kill myself or someone else.
“I was on the alcohol addiction program at The Shepherd, but I messed that up. They would give me a small glass of wine every hour, but I had a bottle stashed outside. They could see that I was getting more and more drunk as the day went on, so they kicked me out.
“While I was there I mopped the floors, cleaned the tables, operated the dishwasher. One of the managers, a little guy, Albert, came in after I had just cleaned the counter. He made himself a sandwich and left a mess where I had just cleaned. I had a wet cloth in my hand from wiping tables. I wrung it out and handed it to him, ‘You know how to use this, so use it! It’s not my job to clean up after you!’ I’ve always been hard-headed that way.
“When I was on the shelter side I’d strip the sheets from the beds. Sometimes, a guy would have pissed the bed. I hated that — the stink! I told them if I was going to do that job, I wanted a free newspaper. They agreed to that. It was something. I’m not going to go back on a program. I’m going to do it by myself. I’ve cut back quite a bit.
“Lately I’ve been sleeping in the entrance of the Toronto Dominion Bank, where they have the banking machines. There’s a bench that I can hide behind. The heater was too hot so I took a pair of tweezers and adjusted the temperature — now it’s just right. Sometimes the cops will find me there and kick me out. In the morning the manager will tell me to wake up and get out. She’s nice though. I tell her, ‘Just give me a few minutes to wake up, then I’ll be out of here.’
“I don’t know why Andre isn’t here. I haven’t seen him for five days. He’s usually the first to come by. Maybe he got a parole violation. That could mean thirty days, of course, he’d only have to serve twenty of that. This is a ‘red zone’ for me. According to my probation, I’m not allowed to get drunk or to associate with alcoholics.”
A security guard, wearing a yellow neon vest approached. “It’s time to move along. We used to let people stand around here, but there was too much mess, cigarette butts, cigarette packages, bottles. So, you’ve got one minute to finish your smoke then I’m coming back. If you’re still here I’m phoning the police.”
To me, Ian said, “I should have told him that this building is on Algonquin land. I’m part Algonquin, but I don’t know what to do. Maybe, I’ll contact the Algonquin Chief. He may be able to tell me what can be done.”
It’s the first time I’ve been rousted, but now I know how it feels.
~~~
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July 12, 2020
He died twice, but they brought him back
[image error]
2 February 2012
Today, the sun was shining. The temperature was minus five degrees Celsius (twenty-three degrees Fahrenheit). Ice sculptures were on display outdoors at the park. At ‘the heater’ (or ‘the wall’) were Shakes, Ian, Trudy, and Philip.
I asked Shakes how he was doing. He replied, “I’ll be great once I get this drunk on.”
I talked to Ian about his birthplace, Bella Bella (also known as Waglisla), on Campbell Island. I had researched it on the Internet.
“Yeah man, It’s grown since I’ve been there, but it’s beautiful. That’s God’s country out there. The only way in is by boat or plane. The ferries may run there, but I’m not sure since that one tipped over a few years back.
“When I was a kid we used to have races, through the forest for a mile or so, around things, over things, under things, through the swamp then swim the last part. I was fast. We really had fun.”
Trudy, ‘Mom’, mentioned that she had visited Andre in the hospital yesterday. ‘Mom’ is very sweet and motherly looking with shoulder-length white hair.
“He doesn’t look good. Besides the heart attack, he has pneumonia. He has a nurse twenty-four hours a day, sitting at his side. She told me all the details of his condition. He died twice, but they brought him back. He’s got tubes coming out of everywhere and one down his throat because he can’t breathe on his own. He looks like a robot. They have him in an induced coma. They want to bring him back slow.”
“I had double pneumonia one time,” said Shakes. “That’s really bad. You can die from that. My martial arts trainer was with me. He gave me a shot of whiskey every hour.
“I took karate, taekwondo, kickboxing, and boxing. I knew that stuff even before I went to the pen.”
“I have a red belt in jiu-jitsu,” said Ian as he took my wrist and elbow putting it in a position where he could either throw me or break my arm. “My hands are considered weapons. Even these steel-toed boots are considered weapons. The police told me that. They could see the yellow markings on the sides.
“A friend got me these boots, he said if you ever need boots to let me know. I went to him and the next day he brought me these. They cost $300 and they’re really warm.”
Philip, a large man with a beard, reached into his backpack and pulled out two small gift boxes and a heart-shaped tin of chocolate-covered toffees. He gave them to ‘Mom’.
She opened the boxes and showed everyone. In the first box was a necklace with a silver pendant and two stud earrings with pink stones. In the second box was a necklace with a black rectangular stone.
“Philip!” she said, “How long have you known me?”
“Six years, maybe.”
“In all, that time didn’t you notice that my ears aren’t pierced? I guess now I’ll have to have them done.
“I’m going to the “Shep” (The Good Shepherd) soon to get my meds. My worker had them sent there.
Ian said to Philip, “You’re barred from there aren’t you?”
“I’m barred for life. I hit two staff. They reported me and I was sent down for sixty days. I’m up on another charge coming to court soon. I hit someone. I don’t know who. I was drunk.”
Trudy asked “Has anybody got a comb. I’ve gone three days without combing my hair.” Philip reached into his backpack and pulled out a comb. “That’s my comb, Henry! Now go easy, start from the bottom, and go up. I’ve got a lot of tangles.” Philip gently combed out Trudy’s shoulder-length, white hair.
“Trudy, I went to your place the other night, but you weren’t there. I had five bottles of wine with me, so I just stayed there and got pickled. Do you know that your building was raided? If your roommates have any needles laying around you could get arrested just for being there. I don’t think you should go back.”
At that point, Juanita arrived with two liters (quarts) of Molson Ice Beer.
“Where’s Andre?” she questioned. “I came all this way to see him and he’s not here.”
“Don’t you know that he’s in the hospital?” said Philip, “I was with him when it happened. We were at McDonald’s. We had cheeseburgers and each of us had a bottle of wine with us. We drank it out of McDonald’s cups. Then Andre just slumped over in his chair. Somebody called an ambulance.”
Trudy said to Shakes, “I had a couple of joints earlier, but I could really use a drink. Will you give me a drink?”
“Not now, maybe later.”
“Shakes!” said Ian, “If you don’t give ‘Mom’ a drink now, I won’t give you a drink later.” He pulled a bottle of Imperial sherry from his backpack. To me, he said, “We always share with everybody. I don’t know what’s gotten into Shakes.” He passed the bottle around and we each took a swig.
“Very good!” I said, “This is what you were telling me about the other day.” (Medium amber color; aromas of walnuts, caramel, and figs; sweet and creamy along with flavors of brown sugar. Has a slightly impetuous bouquet. I can imagine it served with pecan pie.)
Ian opened a bag of Cheesies and offered some to Trudy. “Are you crazy! You’ll ruin your buzz. I’m trying to hang onto my stone. I’m not going to ruin it just because of munchies.
“I’m allowed back on Jarvis Street now. I was banned for six months. I haven’t been causing any trouble. I just get drunk. I woke up at Bernice’s place and asked her if I had any money. She checked and said, I still had fifty bucks. That was a relief!”
It was time for me to get back to work, so I excused myself, said my goodbyes, and to Ian, “Maybe, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He shook my hand and we parted.
~~~
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July 11, 2020
I Don’t Like You
[image error]
1 February 2012
Today was a learning experience. The weather was what the meteorologists called “freezing fog”. I walked to ‘the heater’ where I saw Chester and a woman. Chester, I’d met the previous day, the woman I had seen, but we hadn’t been introduced.
Chester said to the woman, “Debbie, this is … What did you say your name is?”
“I’m Dennis.”
I shook Chester’s hand then extended it to Debbie. She withheld her’s and said, “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to visit friends. I was hoping Joy would be here.”
Chester was very friendly and talkative. The previous day he hadn’t said a word. “He’s solid, Debbie, he was here yesterday talking with Ian.”
Debbie noticed the cloth bag I was carrying; on it was printed The Hope Mission. She said, “There was a man who was barred from The No Hope Mission, The Salvation Army and the Rescue. The temperature was minus forty degrees. No place would let him in. He froze to death standing up, leaning against the brick wall of the Shepherd.”
“Why was he barred?” I asked.
“It doesn’t matter why he was barred! Nobody should be forced to freeze to death!”
“I agree.”
Chester, in a kindly voice, broke the awkward silence, “Cathy and I have been friends for a long time — on the wagon and off. I was sober for 10 years. That’s when I was with Epeelee, an Inuit woman. When she died four years ago I fell off the wagon.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said.
“I don’t like your voice!” said Debbie.
“I’m sorry, I won’t talk.”
“It’s not your voice I don’t like, it’s the tone. It’s clinical and condescending.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come across that way.”
Chester went on with his stories. He mentioned where he lived, that he likes British Columbia pot, that he used to be a drug dealer.
“Chester, don’t give away personal information.” To me, she said, “I don’t like you!”
“Would you like me to leave,” I said.
“Yes!”
“Goodbye, Chester. Goodbye Debbie”
Today I learned that even the agencies whose sole purpose is to help the poor, the destitute and the homeless can be seen as the enemy. I learned that I will always be an outsider to homeless people. I haven’t had their experiences. I don’t blend. I am humble. I only want to help, but those who don’t know me may not always see that. I must show more sensitivity. Tomorrow, I hope to have a more positive experience, but I have learned from today
~~~
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July 10, 2020
We aren’t ‘you guys’
[image error]
2012
19 January 2012
This morning, in the freezing cold, Joy was huddled in a sleeping bag with only her face showing. Her feet were nearly frozen from sitting on the sidewalk for two hours. She’s been in the hospital for the past two months due to epileptic seizures. She’d cut back on her medication because she wasn’t having any symptoms, then the seizures hit. Her doctor has upped her meds, now she feels “spinny”. She didn’t have a pleasant time in the hospital, in fact, she went AWOL. The nurses tried to get her to stay, but she’d had an altercation with a woman. Joy said, ‘Either I’m out of her, or I’m going to hit her. In which case I’ll be going to jail and she’ll be in my hospital bed.’
Tuesday, Joy was scheduled to appear in court due to Jake having assaulted her. Jake plead guilty, but they didn’t tell her until she appeared in court. She was in a wheelchair She wonders what kind of a deal they offered Jake. She’s not overly concerned as long as he’s out of her life. I spoke to Joy about the possibility of writing a story about her and her friends. She thought that was a great idea. We’ll talk more about it tomorrow.
20 January 2012
I walked to ‘the benches’ in Moss Park that Joy had described to me. Joy was standing at the edge of a group. When she saw me coming she said, “This is, Dennis. He’s solid, so nobody gives him a hard time. If they do they’ll have me to deal with. Dennis, tell them what you told me yesterday about writing a book.”
I said, “I’ve known Joy for over a year now. We often sit together at the corner of Parliament and Queen, before I go to work. I’ve seen a little of what she goes through with the general public, the comments that are made as she’s panning, the dirty looks, that sort of thing. I’d like to write a book from the point of view of homeless people. Since I don’t know anything about that situation, I’d like to talk to each of you. What would you guys like the general public to know about your situation?”
“I’ll talk to you,” said Darren. “Get your pen and paper. First of all, we aren’t ‘you guys’, we’re not a group, we’re individuals. We come from different places, different backgrounds, in some cases different tribes. Some of us don’t even like each other, but we congregate here to have a beer, smoke a joint, to be with others who don’t judge or verbally abuse us. We accept everyone here as they are.
“I was born on Cape Breton Island. My family is Mi’kmaq, we call ourselves the Red Earth People. In the small town where we lived the Roman Catholic priest was the most important man in town. Whenever there was a big decision to be made, he was the one who made it. My mom and dad were drunks. The priest decided that they weren’t capable of raising three children, so do you know what he suggested? He suggested that we be split up and adopted by white families. I was sent to Boston. My brother and sister were sent out west, somewhere. I remember, being six years old, sitting under the front steps where we lived and crying my eyes out. Why would he have us split up like that? Does that make sense to you?
“My adoptive parents weren’t bad people. They didn’t beat me. I went to good schools, then college. In the 1990’s I joined the Marines and served two terms in the Gulf War. I was with the 5th Marine Expeditionary Brigade. When I returned I got a good job with ACDelco, you know, the automotive parts place. I was married with two kids. My wife and I seemed to be getting along well, then I got a call at work from my son. He was crying. I rushed home, the two kids were sitting on the front step. I went inside and found two men with my wife in the bedroom. One of the guys backed off, said he didn’t want any trouble. The other came after me. I ended up with a broken leg. A week later, I was on the freeway, driving back from the hospital, when a semi changed lanes right beside me. My car got caught in the undercarriage of the truck. The roof was ripped clean off. I was in the hospital for six months. Nearly every bone in my body was broken. My face was cut from the broken windshield. The scars are faint, but you can still see them, almost like a spider web. My wife took off with the kids. The last thing she said to me was, ‘You can kiss my fat ass.’ I guess I fell to pieces after that, got hooked on pain pills, became an alcoholic. Now, here I am.”
~~~
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